


Trust

by zythepsary



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4178067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zythepsary/pseuds/zythepsary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iron Bull has a request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted on Tumblr](http://zythepsary.tumblr.com/post/122033380558/adoribull-for-24-if-you-please).
> 
> This is a little too long to stick in my [bucket of prompts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4092679), so I'm posting it separately.

Dorian is nearly asleep when someone knocks on his door.

"What," he says, loud enough to be heard from the corridor. He groans, scratching at his bare belly, and glances out the window. The moon still hangs in the sky.

The response is another sharp knock.

" _What_ ," Dorian snaps, but there's no answer, so he drags himself out of bed. He yanks the door open, prepared to lecture whoever decided to disturb his sleep, and sees Iron Bull: arms folded across his chest, jaw tight.

Not an intimate visit, Dorian guesses. Bull doesn't look too happy. Then again, he hasn't been very cheerful since they returned from the Storm Coast and gave a dreadnought to the sea.

"I need to talk to you," says Iron Bull, and takes a deliberate step forward. He stops at the threshold, waiting.

"Well, all right, then," Dorian mutters. He turns around, leaving the door open. Iron Bull shuts it and follows him inside.

They sit in the armchairs by his fireplace. Dorian leans down, coaxing what little flames remain back to life, and settles back into his chair. The fire casts odd shadows down Iron Bull's face, making the eyepatch look like an empty void.

"Talk," says Dorian. He slouches, crossing his ankles, and swallows a yawn. His arms hang off the sides of the chair. "You woke me up for this. I hope it's good."

Iron Bull glances away, rubbing at his mouth. It takes him a minute to speak.

"If something—happens, you need to kill me."

Dorian stares. Perhaps this is a joke, but—no. One look at Iron Bull's face and he knows this is genuine. A wave of dizziness rolls over him, lurching in his belly.

"I beg your pardon," says Dorian, to cover his silence.

"Boss won't," says Iron Bull, which is true. Trevelyan has no interest in using a sword for judgement; she's the reason Alexius is still alive and confined to the prison. "She doesn't kill, unless she has to. You think those jail cells could hold me?"

They can't. Dorian has seen Iron Bull break swords and crush throats with his bare hands.

"And Krem," Iron Bull continues, his throat working horribly, "won't. I know he can't."

"But you think I can," says Dorian faintly. He doesn't know what he's done to make Bull think he's capable of this.

Iron Bull rests his elbows on his knees, linking his fingers together. He leans forward, his eye fixed on Dorian's face. "You know the dangers of a Tal-Vashoth more than anyone else here."

"So does Krem," Dorian argues. He wants to straighten or get up and pace, but he can't move. His arms are dead weight, pinning him to the chair. "We both grew up hearing horror stories about crazed giants. Why—"

"You're the only one I trust to do this."

 _Trust_. Is that what this is? It feels more like a betrayal of whatever has been growing between them since Dorian went to accept Iron Bull's offer, whisky on his tongue and anticipation prickling over his skin.

"No," says Dorian, shaking his head. Iron Bull's face crumples. "Oh, don't do that. Do you think you can guilt me into—" _Killing you_ , but he can't say it. Saying it aloud will make it real. "—this? What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Too much shit to count," says Iron Bull, and there should be a chuckle afterwards. There isn't.

Silence rings sharply in Dorian's ears. He stares at Iron Bull, refusing to look anywhere else, and demands to know why.

"Sera is too soft-hearted to kill me," says Iron Bull. His eye looks empty, and his voice is terribly calm. "Varric isn't, but that crossbow is slow to reload, and I'd survive as many bolts as it takes to reach him. Cole could try, but he's small. I can break his neck, easy. Viv would make the mistake of getting too close, thinking her blade can match mine. Same with the boss, only she'd try to capture me alive, so she'd be more reluctant to—"

"Stop," says Dorian, his stomach rolling, but Iron Bull ignores him.

"—get a solid hit on me. Solas would try to keep me contained, and he'd tire himself out long before he could take me down. Blackwall and Cassandra might last a little longer, but they'd be on the defensive for too long. And Cassandra always leaves her left side open when she's tired—"

" _Stop_ ," says Dorian, shoving himself out of his chair. Mercifully, Iron Bull shuts his mouth. An appalling sort of curiosity outweighs the churning in Dorian's belly, so he asks, "And—and me?"

A crooked smile spreads over Iron Bull's face. It looks more like a grimace.

"You'd keep a good distance," says Iron Bull, "and burn me to ash before I got too close."

Panicked, Dorian laughs. It's a hollow sound, too light on his tongue, and he can feel more brimming in his chest. He staggers forward, fumbling at Bull's chest and shoulders.

"You are a _fool_ ," says Dorian. His voice is shaking. His hands are, too, but Bull touches his wrists and guides them to his cheeks. Stubble scratches against his palms. "That's not going to happen."

There are qunari who have left the Qun. Dorian doesn't understand why Iron Bull would be any different.

Iron Bull shakes his head and draws Dorian closer, pressing their foreheads together. "Please, Dorian—"

"Fine," Dorian snaps. He won't—he _can't_ —but if this is something that Bull needs to hear, he'll say it. "Fine. But it's _not_ going to happen."

Before Iron Bull can reply, Dorian kisses him. It is impossible to convey what he means in a single kiss, and he doubts Bull will accept any more words, but this is something he can give. Bull makes a small sound, and his hands tighten on Dorian's wrists. Something heavy swells in Dorian's throat.

"It might," Iron Bull murmurs against his mouth. Dorian's chest hurts, aching with a phantom pain. "It might, and you—"

"Will worry about that deplorable fucking bridge when we come across it."

Iron Bull nods and turns, kissing his palm. Something cracks behind Dorian's ribs.

"Why don't you stay?" Dorian blurts out. He feels a little ashamed by the way Iron Bull blinks in surprise, but this isn't something he's offered before, and Bull has never asked. Quickly, he adds, "It's late. You'll probably walk into a wall and lose the other eye."

"Dorian," says Iron Bull, looking all soft-eyed and kind. Dorian knows what's coming next. "You don't—"

"You can keep me warm," Dorian cuts in. He tugs his hands free and steps away, towards the bed. The leg brace clanks when Iron Bull stands. "Come on. Boots off. And any blades you have on you. If something's going to be jamming against my arse, it better be your cock. And—"

Dorian sucks in a quick breath, desperate to stop babbling. He drops into bed, yanking the blankets up over his shoulders. Iron Bull is still sitting by the fireplace, unmoving. Dorian pats the empty spot beside him.

"Just come over here," says Dorian quietly, and shuts his eyes. He's too weary to keep talking.

It takes a minute for Iron Bull to remove the brace and his boots, and then the bed dips. He lies on his back, hands folded across his belly, and he doesn't object when Dorian wriggles closer.

"Thank you," says Iron Bull, slipping one arm over Dorian's back. His hand lands on Dorian's hip, warm and solid. "This means a lot to me."

"It's just a bed," Dorian mumbles, because he cannot imagine continuing their previous discussion. Not now. He stretches his left arm over Iron Bull's belly. "Go to sleep."

It takes a long time, but Iron Bull's breathing eventually steadies and slows. He snores, of course, because why wouldn't he, but Dorian will allow it. At least once.


End file.
